


Ms Weller's Apple Tree

by Neji



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (heavily implied but he doesn't really remember it), Bottom Bucky Barnes, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Natasha performing God's Work and getting the boys to elope, Philadelphia, Road Trips, graphic depictions of Steve and Bucky being happy and in love, mentions of veganism: i'm pushy and hate dairy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neji/pseuds/Neji
Summary: Bucky tries to get Steve to take a vacation. They haven't had a vacation since 1932 - what's there to lose?-“Ms Weller wasn’t angry about them apples, was she Stevie?”Steve snorted. “She was, at first.” He kept the tone light, jokey; the whole thing a little laughable, to them both. Bucky respected it. He couldn’t stand it when Steve was dejected about things anymore. “She sure was angrier when she saw us together.”





	Ms Weller's Apple Tree

**CAPTAIN AMERICA GETS CLUED UP WITH THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY: CAUGHT LAUGHING AT SMARTPHONE.**

Captain America was caught smirking at his IPhone yesterday as he walked toward the Avengers Tower, is there a special someone in Captain America’s life making him grin? Let us know in the comments below what you think! [image]

* * *

**NEW YORK, Avengers Tower**

Bucky had figured out how to text in a group chat, which was a big step. He was making links into the new world, which meant that he couldn't hide in his room all the time. It did mean that Steve’s ego was constantly compromised when Sam and Bucky teamed up and turned against him, but it was a small price to pay. He woke up that morning with a notification alerting him that the conversation titled _Captain Gambino: this is America_ had ninety-nine plus unread messages. He rubbed at his eyes and scrolled top to bottom, eyes slightly unfocused but picking up key words. Sam was apparently explaining the significant step that Captain America could make if he made an appearance in a rappers upcoming discrimination-themed music video. Bucky was confused that people were still racist in this century.

His phone rang in his hand and he nearly dropped his banana. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Bucky’s voice came from the other side, seeming caught and strangled.

“You’re up early?” Steve was worried when he caught sight of the clock beside the fridge to find that Bucky was up before seven. Bucky was not a morning person. Outside of his little window Steve could see a bird perched on the adjacent apartment roof; at first he thought it was a raven, but when it turned into the sunrise he saw that it was only a pigeon.

“Didn’t sleep great.”

Steve was already heading back into his room, grabbing a bag he always kept packed, and slotting on his shoes. He had slept in his sweatpants and a shirt and didn’t see much point in changing. He read somewhere that paparazzi photos were worth nothing if he wore the same outfit in all of them, anyway. “I’ll be over in a sec.”

“Hey I-,” Bucky hesitated, but Steve kept himself quiet other than a hum to let Buck know that he could keep going, “I want to try something new.”

He said it so certainly that Steve was a little surprised. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Can you get us a Starbucks?”

Steve tried not to laugh. “A Starbucks?”

Bucky still sounded positive about it. “Yeah. That’s the new American thing, right? Like Coca Cola and lipstick?”

Steve had not really thought about it that much. “Yeah,” He said, “I suppose it is. They do it everywhere, really.”

“I ain’t got no problem with globalisation.” Oh, but the way he said it, he sounded just like Bucky always had, but with a modern twist. Before, he would have said something like, _I ain’t got no problem with anyone unless they got a problem with you or me, Stevie._

“Alright, anything in mind?” He was trying not to sound too happy.

Bucky on the other hand sounded like he was quickly losing his interest. “Eh, whatever you have.”

Steve got them both a latte, because he thought that was a pretty big step from a ground coffee with powder milk, like the ones they always used to have. He even said yes when the girl asked him if he wanted to try a different bean.

“Beans’ just beans.” Bucky said, looking tired. He was sat against the wall of his lounge; the lounge that would have been Steve’s if he was less stubborn and just lived in the tower like all the other Avengers, but at least Bucky was on a chair this time and not the floor. Even if he had pushed it all the way back against the wall.

Bucky froze after he took a whiff, and Steve held his breath. “I remember something.” Bucky said. “I knew the smell would…” His eyes clenched shut, “Ack,” And then he started to crunch in on himself.

Steve let his smile slide off his face. “Don’t force yourself.” He reached out in case he needed to catch anything, “It’s alright.”  

“Something about… about snow, we were out in the snow?”

For once, Steve wasn’t sure if he remembered either. There was always snow in their winters. “My Ma used to make coffee to warm us up, I guess. Help me not get sick as bad. It was cheaper than cocoa. Do you remember how old we were?”

Bucky shook his head, looking like he was not satisfied with that answer, but, then, they couldn’t do much about it either. He took a slow sip. “Hm. Milky.”

Steve wanted to ask how he was. He didn’t know if Bucky knew how he was. “So,” Bucky started, “No run this morning?”

“Might do it later.” He nodded toward Bucky’s feet. “You like those socks I got you Buck?”

He shrugged in response. He was thinking about something.

He had been thinking about something all night; sat up against his headboard, and then in his little one seat sofa against the wall. He looked Steve up and down. He was trying to be more open. “I remembered something else yesterday,”

Steve looked at him, instantly excited. “Yeah? What was it?”

“I think...” He chewed his lip. He wanted to put himself out there, maybe see if it would make things feel a bit more human. He was tired. “I liked…” He was getting frustrated, and he could see Steve being all patient, all nice and tolerant. Enduring Bucky like he would endure illness.

He could still see the memory, so he closed his eyes; saw those dim orange lights and the smell of white wine, and light jazz coming from the jukebox; one of the men had been wearing a dress, or maybe she was a woman all the time. He hadn’t asked. “I left you alone one night and went to the queer bar.”

Steve suddenly looked very out of his depth. “Oh right.” He replied, robotically. “How did you...” He looked around himself for a seat, but they were all in front of the TV that Bucky didn’t use much. “Uh… enjoy it?”

That was the part Bucky couldn't get a hold on. “I don’t think I did.” He remembered the atmosphere, the smell, and the feeling of pure and uncensored discomfort. He had gone there alone, he was sure of that. People didn’t go to queer bars alone to cause trouble, that much he thought he knew. People went to those bars to get something they wanted. It didn’t make sense to him.

“It’s been keeping you up all night?”

Bucky hadn’t realised his eyes had unfocused and managed to drag them back onto Steve. Steve who looked uncomfortable, and slightly sad. That was something.

“Yeah.”

“You up for going outside today?”

Bucky shook his head slow.

“That’s OK. How about we have breakfast? I only ate a banana.”

Bucky nodded, and followed Steve into the kitchen vigilantly, eyes scanning slowly, but a small speck calmer than they would have a few months ago. At least that was a step in the right direction.

Steve made him eat an orange while they waited for the oatmeal to cook on the stove. Bucky liked oatmeal, but he didn't like oranges. “These things were rare, huh?”

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked, turning with the wooden spoon in hand, looking positively domestic.

“Cause I don’t like ‘em.” He picked at the white strings attached to the sections. “Guess my taste buds stayed in the war.”

Steve laughed and turn back to the pot. Bucky liked it when Steve laughed.

He tried to think about the bar, about what it was like back then; what it was that had made him wake up in the dead of night, presumably get changed and make a whole journey out, just for him to hate it. The more he thought about it the darker his face got, and Steve slid a steaming bowl over to him and watched him stare at it. He then hit Bucky with his spoon, on Bucky’s real arm, and demanded, “Finish your orange, they might be more abundant now but those Easy Peelers ain’t cheap.”

Bucky didn’t know what the difference between an orange and an Easy Peeler was, but he ate it anyway, and drank the rest of his milky coffee without complaint.  

 

 

Barton and Tony swung by around eleven and Tony’s swipe card let him in without a hitch, which Bucky could see surprised Steve. He felt like he should have told Steve that Tony was due to come over and fiddle with his arm as per usual anyway, but Steve was go goddamn pleased that Bucky had let someone come into his apartment without fuss, that he abruptly didn’t have it in him.

Bucky and Steve were playing chess on a real chessboard, and Tony looked at them like he found that somewhat endearing, while Barton came over and moved one of Bucky’s bishops, and in a single turn put Steve in a position wherein he was going to lose in the next move. “Hey,” Steve sulked. “No fair.”

Bucky didn’t look disappointed at all. “Why the company, Barton?”

“Bit bored. Me and Nat got pulled from the last mission, and now there’s not even any paperwork to do.” He sat heavily on Bucky’s couch. “Thought I would watch Tony talk to your arm for thirty minutes. Then I might start day drinking, if you fancy it.”

Bucky liked that Barton didn’t coddle him, and didn’t avoid what the rest of the team always treated like trigger statements. No one ever talked to Bucky about the only thing any of them really did; missions, jobs, arrangements. Bucky also _loved_ day drinking. “Probably not a good idea yet, with the mastermind at work.” He nodded over at Tony.

“I would like to say I’ve been here for nearly two minutes and no one has asked for my opinion on their next move in chess.” Tony announced in response. “I’ve also been so quiet and patient, pay attention to me please. I’m crying out for help.”

“Go on then,” Steve bartered, and Tony took one long meaningful look at the board and nodded short and definitively.

“Steve’s fucked on this one. Better luck next time old man, let the youngins take over.”

Steve crossed his arms, but didn’t look put out. “Buck’s older than me.”

“I was talking about Clint. Anyway, back to me. Can I have some privacy with this man’s wonderful appendage please, and by that I mean his arm. Don’t panic please. JARVIS,” He shouted, and the ceiling answered.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Can you set up Barnes’ table with all my lovely new tools please, and dangle some string for Barton and Capsicle, or flash a laser beam around for them to chase, or whatever entertains these macho-type people.”

“Would they prefer a cold alcoholic beverage, as mentioned by Agent Barton earlier?” JARVIS offered instead. Bucky like watching the computer side against its master, thinking about all those science fiction books he used to like, and probably still did if he tried. He thought JARVIS was much too polite to take over the world, even if he could.

“Oh go on then,” Barton said from the couch, “You’ve pulled my leg on this one.”

Steve shrugged. The house opened the fridge door and out extended a countertop with two ice cold Bud Lights, and Steve made a little face. Bucky tried not to let it show how much he knew that Steve hated watery beer, but his lips still pulled up in a smile. Barton didn’t seem to mind.

Tony had a glowing taser-type stick in his hand that he was angling for Bucky’s shoulder with. “You might have to take off your shirt,” So Bucky did, and then Tony muttered. “Brace yourself, Barnes,” And zapped him right under his shoulder blade. The arm’s communications with his brain went numb, and the arm flopped onto the side of the counter with a heavy thud. “Lovely.”

The table filled up with more and more bits of Bucky’s arm as they were replaced, more and more orange peels, and more and more empty bottles. Bucky didn’t think Steve minded much about the cheap beer either really, on the inside he was as thankful to have anything as he always was. The future had made him snobby. Bucky snorted, jogging Tony, who slapped him with the mini tweezers in his hand.

* * *

**THE AVENGERS ASSEMBLE: BLACK WIDOW, HAWKEYE, IRON MAN, AND CAPTAIN AMERICA ALL SEEN ENTERING THE AVENGERS TOWER THIS MORNING.**

Four Avengers were seen entering the Avengers Tower today arousing suspicion that there is something on the rise. Is there something looming over us? A new threat? Have you seen anything that might be the reason for the meeting? Let us know in the comments below! [image] [image] [image] [image]

* * *

**NEW YORK, Avengers Tower**

Nat came down some time in the afternoon, but by then they had all started drinking too. She seemed like she was going to have the nerve to look questionably at them, but instead she took one of the bottles, too, and sat opposite Tony at the kitchen island. After she realised it was Bud Light she asked Jarvis to swap it for something Bucky instinctively recognised as Russian in a short, green, stout bottle.

Nat inspected Bucky’s new arm cover for a second, touching where the plates weren’t jagged or heavy anymore, and the metal was a dusted black matte. “Nice.” She remarked, and cracked open the bottle with her teeth.

JARVIS butted in. “Apologies for the intrusion, but there is a bottle opener to your left, Agent Romanoff.”

“Don’t bother JARVIS, she’s an animal,” Tony said, furrowing his eyebrows despite himself, looking like a perturbed teacher.

Natasha smirked at him, all teeth. “JARVIS, you don’t call me Natasha anymore?”

Tony went to speak, but JARVIS seemed to ignore him. “I have been instructed to refer to you indifferently Agent Romanoff, I hope you understand and forgive me.”

Nat’s smile hadn’t faltered as she looked at Tony. “That have anything to do with me taking your girlfriend out to lunch yesterday?”

“I had a prior arrangement or else I would have taken her out,” Tony indicated to Bucky, who now sat cradling his drink with both hands even though he knew it made it warm. “I’m sure you had a _lovely_ time with Pepper, she’s a wonderful human. That’s why _I’m_ marrying her.”

“Don’t project your insecurities onto me,” Natasha sing-songed, and took a long and calculated sip, her and Stark maintaining strong eye contact.

Stark turned his attention back to Bucky’s arm, which was slowly waking up. “Check this out.” He said, like it was something Bucky hadn’t agreed to, and tapped at a special combination of plates in a complicated system that Bucky’s Winter Soldier portion of his brain latched onto and remembered instantly.

Something beeped and made a happy noise of approval, some steam is released and the suction broken, and then Bucky’s arm fell off. Steve made a frantic grab for it and his hands shook in sudden fear. It hit the side with a _thunk_ not unlike earlier, and Bucky wiggled around the half of it left in an odd mechanic stump.

“Ta-daa,” Tony sung, while Steve looked angrier than he had in a long while. Bucky leered at him, mistaking it for annoyance, but realised dumbly that Steve was actually just infuriated. Then Steve did what he always did and deflated his anger away from Bucky, half out of kindness and the other out of what Bucky could only assume was pure anxiety.

Bucky let out some air between his lips and said, more to Steve than anyone else, “I could use some food.”

Steve answered him first, like he always did; like he didn’t want Bucky to go a minute without an answer to anything. His eyes were flicking around and jittering, like they didn’t want to land on Bucky’s naked chest. Bucky thought that was weird. “Me too. Pizza?”

Barton _whooped_ and made for his phone, ordering on one of those fancy apps that people use now and assembling the largest order of food that poor _Rozario’s_ was ever going to see, while Tony helped Bucky put his arm back on, and finally Bucky put his shirt on.

Natasha was eyeing them sideways, which made even Bucky feel a bit put off.

He noticed that after they had eaten Natasha was still quiet; observant, even. That never amounted to anything respectable or blameless.

Barton left at six after having more beer than was possible to pass off as a casual amount, and Tony threatened to lock Natasha out of her room before he left. She laughed at that, before returning back to whatever she had been contemplating.

“What?” Bucky finally snapped, when it was just the three of them left. Steve went to chastise him, but Nat spoke first.

“You’re getting so…” She gave them a little grin but, the way her mouth curled, it was lecherous. “Fine. Good, I could say.” And, coming from Natasha, someone who had managed to deprogram herself almost independently, it meant something big.

Bucky had thought he was better, too. Sure, he didn’t like going out, and he didn’t like people he didn’t know; and sometimes food tastes weird and new, but it had been a long time since he had wanted to do anything crazy. Only six months ago he was wanting to cut off his arm or all of his hair, just to feel something. Now he was feeling _things_ all the time.

“Yeah,” He agreed. “I feel fine. Good.”

She turned and addressed Steve this time. “You should go on a vacation together.”

Steve spluttered. “What? Where’s this coming from?”

Natasha shrugged. “We’re not exactly busy. If you’re worried, take a phone. Go some place a couple hours away and Tony’s jet can get you.” She said it so easily, because she knew it was easy. She knew there was no reason to say no.

Bucky didn’t like the sound of it at first, the idea of leaving his apartment to go ‘some place’ he wouldn’t remember and watch Steve be sad. He thought about it a bit longer, and looked at Steve, who wasn’t looking at him at all. “Sure.” He said instead.

“What?!” Steve was flustered, which didn’t make any sense. “We haven’t been on a vacation since nineteen thirty-two, when you had your bar mitzvah in New Jersey.”

“You’re Jewish?” Nat asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Guess so.”

It made Steve do something bizarre with his eyebrows that Bucky didn’t remember that. “Come on, we can’t just... You don't...” Steve was at a loss too.

“I want to.” Bucky said, and rubbed at his shoulder. “I could take this off, look pretty normal if I pin my sleeve up. We could go down to Philly.”

“Philly?” Steve said, incredulous.

“Anyway, I had better go and tell Tony I’m not actually out to steal his girlfriend. Maybe check Barton isn’t face down on the bathroom floor.”

Bucky noticed that way that she said _the_ bathroom, not _his_ bathroom; like they shared it. Maybe they did, he didn’t consider to ask. He waved her off as she let herself out.

“Buck,” Steve said in that voice that said he was going to say something he didn’t want to say. “What’s this all about?”

Bucky got up and started to collect the bottles, and JARVIS opened up the glass bottle chute so that they would go straight to recycling. The future was virtuous sometimes. “It’s a good idea. We could take the bike, drive down there.”  

“For how long?”

“However long we want.”

Steve pulled a face and, trying to seem light-hearted, he said: “The _Eagles though,_ Buck.”

Bucky laughed, but he saw the way Steve was still slightly panicked. He was tempted to throw an orange peel at him just to annoy him. “The thing is Steve,” He said seriously, “I ain’t the only one who’s meant to be healing, you know.”

Steve went quiet at that, internal, and Bucky left him to retreat into it, at least for now.

* * *

**NEW YORK, Avengers Tower  
**

Steve stayed over in Bucky’s spare room that night, which wasn’t that unusual, but had an air of unresolved questions after the day before.

Steve spent three days after avoiding the subject too, and Bucky watched him go for his runs at seven through the window, somewhat empty that Steve was feeling something that he couldn’t understand; maybe Steve didn’t feel like he deserved a holiday, but he did. He deserved everything.

Bucky started leaving his arm laying around because it made Steve talk to him, even if it was to tell him off. It was also tremendously amusing.

“OK.” Bucky said on Thursday, on the third day of strain; when it had gotten too much. “We need to-,”

The alarm blared, piercing through whatever Bucky was going to say. Steve’s shoulders slumped, Bucky’s arm in his hand from where he had found it in the bathroom, perched on the toilet seat. It would have been hilarious if that damn alarm hadn’t sounded. JARVIS spoke loudly over the siren. “Captain, I believe this is an event for the entire team, if Sargent Barnes might be agreeable.”

Bucky shrugged. At least when he left the house with the Avengers, it felt less like exposing himself to the world. It felt like his team had his back, which wasn’t something he could remember feeling for a long time. “What is it?” He asked, but wished he hadn’t. Steve ran in front of him back to their rooms, and they changed separately. Bucky had some kind of old uniform that Tony had redesigned, bright green and yellow. _Lantern ain't getting much use out of it now, the retired green bastard,_ Barton had said, but Bucky didn't really know who he was referencing. Maybe it was Barton’s ex, or something.

“It seems-,” JARVIS hesitated, which was certainly not good.  “Pardon my assumption, but it seems to be some kind of religious movement.”

“A what?” Steve requested, already shoved into all his spandex, but Jarvis didn’t answer.

Bucky adored that Steve’s ears still stuck out, and Bucky hopped up and flicked them as he pulled up his trousers. At least Stark had made them a bit looser than the originals. “Oi.” Steve chided.

“Sirs, it seems they have learnt how to fly. Their leader isn’t particularly kind to non-believers, as it were.”

“Lovely,” Bucky said, and followed Steve to the elevator.

* * *

**THE AVENGERS AND GREEN LANTERN TEAM UP AGAIN TO FIGHT THE MOB ON THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE, CAUSING BIGGEST TRAFFIC JAM OF TWENTY-EIGHTEEN. SEE BELOW IMAGES FOR MORE!**

The Avengers were seen today taking down the unusual nuisance on the Brooklyn Bridge, what is your opinion on these new foes? Unusual guests… Or a new religious phenomenon? Let us know in the comments below! [image] [image]

* * *

**NEW YORK, Brooklyn Bridge  
**

“OK,” Steve panted out, lying face up and looking up into the sky, where there was thankfully no more flying cult leaders, but there was still people spouting nonsense about the second coming of the seven plagues of Egypt or something. “OK Buck. We can go on a vacation.”

Bucky was recovering from Steve’s shield hitting him right in the stomach and winding him, what he assumed was meant to be a helpful throw. He threw the shield back. “That have anything to do with you feeling bad for nearly taking out my guts with this thing?”

“No. You were meant to catch that.”

“I did, with my ribcage.”

Two of the screaming enthusiasts ran at Steve as Bucky watched him get up, but two arrows went through their knees before they got close.

“I mean it.” Steve said, looking at him this time.

“Not really the time boys,” Natasha’s voice cut through their earpieces. “ _Ugh,”_ She grunted, and Bucky heard the sound of electric zapping something; probably Nat’s makeshift cattle prod. “But, I’m proud of you anyway.”

Steve was still catching his breath as he threw the shield at another passing enemy, and it bounced back off the bridge suspension and came back to him. Bucky thought it was a low-key kind of impressive, how naturally Steve did that. Steve caught him staring at him as he brushed off his uniform, and raised an eyebrow.

“I can root the Eagles for a few weeks.” He then indicated behind Bucky, who quickly turned around, just to get knocked down by a bald man in a robe.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky said, before he remembered he was meant to be Jewish or something and _what the fuck, did this guy just fucking bite him?_

“Motherfucker,” He held the guy’s face with his hand and pushed him at arm's length as he reached to his belt and charged up his taser, and then Barton’s voice came over the intercom. “That’s all of them, right?”

The sound of bolts rang over the silence.

“Now it is.” Steve confirmed.

* * *

**NEW YORK, Avengers Tower  
**

Bucky couldn’t sleep again that night, laying up in a cold sweat and counting the hours before the sun came up, and Steve would get up too. He could turn his body, his brain, anything off for hours before. Just sitting there, waiting in blankness. Saving reserves. Now he was more human, he noticed things. Now he felt boredom, and the need to fill it.

He went out into his kitchen and called out, as quietly as he could, “JARVIS?”

“Up again, Sergeant Barnes?” JARVIS replied, at least keeping its voice to the kitchen, even if it was still a bit loud.  

“Uh, yeah,” He didn’t know where to look when he talked to the walls, so he looked at the ceiling. “Seems like it.”

“Would you like me to wake Captain Rogers?”

“No, no that’s fine.” He said quickly. “Do you have any maps from around here? Say, two hours circumference around this tower?”

“Might I suggest three hours, Sir, and then you may travel to the Catskill Mountains first, and take the I-87 South down towards Philadelphia. The Mountain has appeared on the Captain's internet search history on many occasions.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, letting out an impressed whistle. “Secretive bastard. Say, are you allowed to disclose that kind of stuff with me anyhow?”

JARVIS hesitated, as much as Bucky thought a robot could. “I’m not programmed to answer that, Sir.”

Steve came in a little later than usual, looking run down. He sauntered over to Bucky and inspected the bite from the freak the day earlier, patched up and thoroughly disinfected. Bucky noticed with a soft blossoming of endearment that Steve had sleep dust in the corners of his eyes, but the thought stopped as Steve’s hand came gently around the bandage, feeling for heat from an infection. Steve’s hands were soft. They were gentle, too, and definitely lingering. Huh.

“Wish he’d bitten the other one,” Bucky tried to laugh his questions off. “Given him a nice shock.”

Steve smiled soft and dopey. “Experiencing a sudden wish to be mummified? Wanna' worship any cats?”

“No more than usual. And you?”

“Just want to have a coffee really.” He turned back to Bucky, and all the maps and plans on the countertop, looking sheepish. “Sam says he can look after the bike, and we can rent something nice from downtown. I know a guy who might put a Cadillac on hold for us.”

“Oh yeah? You asked already?” Bucky flashed his teeth. “That nice old one?”

“Got the dial radio in it.” Steve tapped at something on the side of the fridge, and a steaming hot coffee came out of it. Bucky didn’t know it did that. Seemed a bit backwards, really; to keep hot mugs of coffee in a fridge. Maybe it was a backwards fridge. “Nothing goods' ever on the radio though.”

“When should we go?”

“Up to you.”

Buck raised and dropped a shoulder. “Nothing waiting on you, right?”

Steve looked timid, and stopped blowing on his coffee. “I… I actually got this book I’m reading, I wanna finish it before we go. Then I can take a fresh one. That cool with you?”

Bucky thought it was sweet, to be honest. He nodded. With anyone else, maybe Steve would have abandoned it. He probably would have put them first. Bucky admired that Steve was being a bit selfish around him for once – in fact, it was hardly even that. It was their vacation, after all.

“I can drive us up if you wanna finish those beers you're hiding in the fridge.” He offered it out of habit, really, since the alcohol didn’t touch the sides of Steve’s serum.

“Thanks Buck.”

He could already feel the relaxation hitting all the joints in his neck. His shoulder pain was calmer now that the arm was lighter, and as Steve fried up some eggs JARVIS let them know it was going to be a scorcher this weekend, and the traffic looked light around four. Bucky felt excited for the first time in a long time. He let his eyes follow Steve around the kitchen, and felt a pull at his eyes to let them slip closed in satisfaction, the smell of the fridge coffee arousing his senses into a daydream.

A memory surfaced not long after. When he woke up he was on the sofa, having dozed off, and Steve’s bag was packed at the foot of the door. Steve was talking quietly in the other room, and Bucky followed the sound.

“Yes,” Steve was saying to his phone. “Yes, we have those. _No,_ what’re they meant to be for? No, we’re not gonna...” He sighed. “OK, you can have a snowglobe. But Clint’s having a nicer one for being respectful and not so _lewd-,”_ He turned and startled when he saw Bucky. Well, that sure was a funny reaction, Buck thought. “Ok, see you soon.” He said abruptly, and then hung up. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Bucky replied, the way Steve was looking at him wide-eyed making him feel a bit uncomfortable. Steve caught his vibe right away and corrected himself back to whatever he had been doing before. “I fell asleep?”

“Yeah, didn’t want to wake you. It is your vacation. That's what people do, right?”

Bucky hadn’t packed yet but, then again, he was always wearing Steve’s clothes as it was anyway. “ _Our vacation.”_ He corrected. “How long do you want to go for?”

It surprised him that Steve answered so quickly and so surely. “A week at least.”

“Sounds good.” The clock behind them said four-thirty. They’d missed their window, but they could waste some time and miss the next bulk of traffic. “So, about those beers before we set off?”

“Your bags’ on your bed. Bring it in here and I’ll even make you a sandwich.”

Bucky wanted to say something teasing, and almost did it without thinking. _My best gal,_ something like that. _You’re the best wife I could have got myself, Stevie._ It didn’t feel right to say it like that, so casually. He didn’t dwell on it too much, and went to his room like he had been told. He locked his phone in his drawer and, as an afterthought, let Sam know he was going off the grid for a while.

 _Have fun boys,_ Sam replied quickly.

They sat at the kitchen island afterwards, and Steve was fishing out some nice fancy bottles from Bucky’s fridge that Bucky had mentioned earlier. He hadn’t looked in his fridge much so it made sense for Steve to hide his nice, expensive things in there from all the other Avengers.

When Steve had started sleeping in his spare room, he had also started putting his clothes in Bucky’s closet. Bucky’s bag was full of Steve’s clothes. He wondered if Steve still paid rent for that nice miniature shack he had up in Brooklyn, but he didn’t ask. He also wondered if Steve was doing half of this on purpose.

There was a turkey sandwich waiting for him, as promised.

“Cider,” Steve said, holding out one of the bottles. “It’s from England, where they make it proper and sharp.” He cracked them open; old cap tops, not the new screw-off type ones that all beers had now. The English were old traditional types, just like them. Bucky wondered if he’d ever been to England. He felt like he had. Steve smelt the little pop of flavour that always steamed up and out of a cold bottle, and then passed it over to Bucky to do the same.

Bucky caught the scent of it and halted.

Bucky felt it then, the flicker. He saw it so clearly he couldn’t believe he had forgotten it at all, even with everything else that had been reset in his mind. How could this have been lost. He understood all at once what he had remembered, almost a week ago now; that feeling of being in that downtown bar, when the pretty boys came and asked him for a dance. They weren’t as pretty as what was waiting for him back home.

“You always were sweet on me,” He said. “Even then.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just stood there, stunned.

When Bucky thought he might have to catch him if he collapsed, Steve fell into a chair and let his head hang low and rubbed at his hair. He covered his mouth and looked at Bucky with an expectant kind of look, his eyes watering and baby blue. Bucky tried to remember what Steve was showing him, but couldn’t. He _couldn’t_. He asked instead.

“Was I sweet on you too?”

Steve’s head fell into his hands again. Bucky tried to understand and concentrated, but, all that came up was the smell of sour apples stolen from _somewhere_ but he just couldn't - his brain _wouldn’t_...

“I remember apples.” He tried to confess, since he might as well go all in with Steve. He would only mull over it until it came out later. He wouldn’t understand it on his own, no matter how much he wanted to.

Steve’s eyes lingered on him.

“Sour apples?” He said hopefully, and it broke Bucky's goddamn heart that Steve was right, for _once,_ about what Bucky could remember, but so _wrong_ about what it meant to Bucky, opposed to what he wanted it to mean. “We stole them from Ms Weller’s tree, but they tasted so bad. You told me...” Steve let out a little smile, but it was gone in an instant.

“You told me that horses got drunk on the apples out in the country. That they fell on the floor and fermented, and then the horses ate them and got jolly.”

Bucky didn’t know that. “Did I ever go to the country?”

“No, I think you might have read it some place.” He pursed his lips. “Ma screamed at us for so long, after. Ms Willer got us right in trouble.”

Bucky still didn’t understand why the apples were so important. He kept looking at Steve, and, when Steve seemed like he had given up staring at the edges of Bucky’s silhouette, Bucky sipped at the cider and remarked, in a caution to the wind type voice, “This tastes worse than I remember of them apples, Stevie.”

Steve laughed a sort of joyous laugh that sounded more genuine at the beginning than at the end.

Bucky thought he might branch out, now that it was up for grabs. “It’s alright now, ain’t it.”

“What?”

“You know.” He resisted saying _this,_ “Fellas. Being… whatever.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at Buck.” Steve replied sharply and, damn, Bucky had thought he might have been more of a lothario in those days, but not in _this_ day. He wasn’t about to explain it all to Steve in one go.

He waved his hand casually. “Let’s get on the road soon.” He let Steve stare at his smirk as he said, “The sun’s getting real low.”

“That reference ain’t funny, you know.” Steve’s voice was still tight, but his lips pulled up at the edges.

* * *

**CAPTAIN AMERICA AND BEST FRIEND JAMES BARNES SEEN LEAVING THE AVENGERS TOWER IN STYLE TO UNKNOWN LOCATION**

Captain America and fellow World War Two veteran James Barnes were seen leaving the Avengers Tower today with large bags, spiking interest in where our two favourite pensioners are off to. An inside source followed the two to a car rental dealership where they were known to have hired a vintage Cadillac. An interview with local legend Tony Stark’s girlfriend, Pepper Potts, seen wearing a personalised Armani gown, reported the following quote:

[video] _“This is a charity event organised for sick children? And you are asking me where two guys are going on holiday? Get out of here please, before I call security. And you better not refer to me as ‘Iron Man’s Girlfriend’ again or I’ll be contacting-,”_

Where is Captain America and his Old Pal off to? Let us know what you think in the comments below!

* * *

**NEW YORK, Budget Inn  
**

  
They stopped out in Liberty, even though it was only half of the way to the Mountains. They didn’t end up leaving the apartment until eight, and by half nine Steve looked weary at the wheel. He wasn’t much up for talking, but Bucky didn’t feel like it, either, after what he had remembered, and the way Steve had been about it all.

“The Lady herself,” Bucky said, holding the curtains of their room open and showcasing Lady Liberty in all her green glory, all twelve feet of her in the finest plastic, proudly displayed in the centre of the parking lot. The attendant at the motel had been nice enough to give them a postcard of the real thing. “Isn’t she a picture?”

“Really something.” Steve’s voice was clipped and quick. Bucky didn’t think he could pretend he didn’t notice for much longer. He let Steve have his strop for a bit; let him throw their bags around onto the sofa and the shut the door a bit too hard when he brushed his teeth.

Bucky was tucked into the left-hand bed when Steve came back in, and he was debating if he should take off his arm. It was what he had replaced it for, anyways.

Steve’s eyes were on him when he climbed into his own bed adjacent, the light still on. Bucky broke the silence for the sake of it. He wasn’t sure if he could sleep. “You gonna’ do some reading?”

“No. You tired?”

“No.” Bucky admitted.

Steve rolled onto his back and let out a huff. “I didn’t think you were sweet on me too,” Steve said, sounding like it took all he had just to get the words out. “But when you said about that bar…”

Bucky took the opening which, actually, wasn’t really an opening as much as it was Steve opening his goddamn heart up. One of them had to have the initiative. “We ever cuddle?”

Steve turned his head over, looking like he might explode if Bucky took it back. “No.”

“You wanna?”

He nodded, wordless and stock-still. He got to moving when Buck pulled his covers back and came over. He made room real quick for that. “Like this,” Bucky instructed. Maybe he had always been the teacher, back then. It came so naturally to him now, to grab at Steve’s arm and put it around himself, to push right up against Steve’s side and put his head on Steve’s chest. Steve was so _big,_ it was so easy to get wrapped up in him. He listened to Steve’s heartbeat level out and his eyes closed soft and slow.

* * *

**CAPTAIN AMERICA SPOTTED IN PRAGUE WITH SECRET LOVER!**

Captain America was spotted in the Czech Republic’s unique and quaint main city with a FEMALE friend, sporting a tight black sweater and black Levis. There has been speculation that James Barnes is nowhere to be found, what do you think happened to this band of brothers? Let us know in the comments below! [photo] [photo]

* * *

**NEW YORK, Route 55**

   
He was so severely disappointed to have woken up and found that it was morning, and that he didn’t have any extra time to enjoy Steve like he sought to. The motel kicked out at half eight, and they got right back onto the road. Steve’s step sure was lighter, nonetheless.

Bucky had to ask him. He thought this was the best time, on the road like this; he could read people like open books, and could always read Steve even better. There was no escape from the questions here, no distractions; just him and Steve for the three hours they had left on the journey. He was glad they hadn’t taken the bike.

He started exactly how he meant to finish; undeviating and unassuming. “Ms Weller wasn’t angry about them apples, was she Stevie?”

Steve snorted. “She was, at first.” He kept the tone light, jokey; the whole thing a little laughable, to them both. Bucky respected it. He couldn’t stand it when Steve was dejected about things anymore. “She sure was angrier when she saw us together.”

“We were smooching up against that tree, weren’t we?”

“I’ve never forgotten it.” Then Steve glanced at him, all wide-eyed dread, “Not to say it’s your fault that you don’t remember.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky interrupted, and he meant it, too; in some primal, ingrained, automatic way he did remember; he could taste the acid from the apples on his tongue, and then something a little sweeter. “How old were we?” They couldn’t have been adults, stealing like that.

“I was eleven, you were turning thirteen. You got it a little better than I did.” Steve sniggered at the way Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “When she was _angry,_ I mean. Not the kissin’ part. I didn’t really think it was...” The word hung in the air, _wrong,_ maybe Steve would go as far as to call it unnatural, but at the twitch of his lip he saved it, “...something boys didn’t do.”

“Did you kiss me?”

Steve halted, the grip of his hand on the wheel quickly white-knuckled. “What?” He questioned dumbly.

“Did you kiss me? Or did I lay one on you?”

Colour flushed into Steve’s cheeks, right down to his collarbones. Bucky let himself leer at that. Steve’s mouth opened and closed once, and then he mumbled, “I…” He uncurled his spine and spoke more clearly. “I kissed you.” In a sort of voice that said, _what about it?_ “Why does it matter?”

Bucky shrugged, still not able to take his eyes off the way Steve went so red, knowing the only thing to look at was out the window at the tarmac; the highway flying by them, other people in their cars. Maybe they were having hard conversations too, Bucky thought. He liked beholding Steve instead of them.

“Just seemed like something you would do.” Bucky saw the way that Steve looked dazed and a little excited, hands still tight and shoulders anxious, and thought maybe Steve liked that kind of assumption. He immediately wanted to say something annoying. “Stupid, reckless.” Something that would make Steve stop this panic he’d been having inside his own head for a week, at least.

It made sense now. Steve probably thought he had turned Buck away with that in the war, and now that Bucky had remembered it again, he would wanna forget it.

“You liked dames too,” Steve said, as though it was worth noting down at all, like it somehow would make this non-existent problem he thought Bucky had with it go away. Bucky knew that. His sexuality had not been erased, at least. That was DNA deep. “All kinds. Just thought maybe you would have liked me too.”

“I did.” Bucky corrected. “You didn’t try and kiss me again.” He didn’t actually recall, but he knew it was a damn good guess.

“No.”

“Might want you to.”

Steve cleared his throat and shuffled around like he had when he was in church on a June morning, dying to get out into the sunshine and get that heat on his little cold body, maybe let Bucky set off a fire hydrant if he didn’t have a bad chest again. “Oh,” Steve muttered, interrupting Bucky’s train of thought and at that Bucky startled, because he hadn’t remembered something so quickly and undoubtedly before.

“Well.” Steve mumbled awkwardly.

Bucky gave him a smirk and turned away; deciding to kick off his shoes as he said, “Think you can pencil that in?”

“Probably.” Steve turned up the car radio, at least those things worked about the same, and let something new and very two-thousand and eighteen play out, and Bucky put his feet up onto the dashboard and whistled along, even though he didn’t truly know the tune. “Now I’m gonna’ have to tell all my other fellas to back off a bit.”

Bucky squawked out a laugh, and they sped along, rolling the windows down when the sun cut through the clouds.

* * *

**NEW YORK, Catskill**

   
They stopped at a supply shop at the base of the mountain range and bought some supplies for a hike. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, but Steve was stalling, pretending he was absorbed in all the different menus and cafes. “How do you feel about vegan food?”

Some of the shopkeepers kept looking over at them, how big they were; probably thought they were health nuts from the city. Bucky shrugged and leaned over Steve’s shoulder to look at the map pinned up to the shop wall. “What’s that?”

“You ain't heard of it? Means no stuff from animals. Milk, eggs, all that.”

“Why would people do that?”

“Better for you,” Steve’s finger was running down that menu too, tracing the words. Keeping busy. “Better for the planet.”

“That gonna’ make you stop eating burgers?”

Steve turned and looked at him finally, bashful, and Bucky thought it was a decent time to ask what Steve seemed so edgy about. “We had better find some place to stay.” On the map, right in the corner - about a three-hour trek by foot, or an hour if you split driving and the last bit walking, nice and isolated; was a cabin ground. “ _Sundown Wild Forest_ sure does sound nice.”

“You wanna stay in a cabin?”

“Sure.” Bucky took one of the leaflets that was slotted into the holder. “We’re on vacation, after all.”

He found the one he wanted quick, showing the picture to Steve. It was one bed. Exactly what Steve had been avoiding asking, if he could guess.

“You don't have to-,” Steve started, and then stopped himself. He didn’t need to kid himself that Bucky didn’t want this. He had since nineteen-thirty. “OK.  But we’re getting the vegan food.”

“Done. I’ll even buy.”

They booked the cabin at the desk, and upon the ordering of their one bed romantic eco hut, the woman at the desk shrunk in on herself and gave off an aura that she was disappointed. _Oh, Stevie,_ he thought. _Breaking hearts for a century_ , and then they went to that vegan café.

It had hanging baskets all around, lit candles even though it was only one O’clock in the afternoon, and a girl on the counter with blood red hair, shaved real short. There were three glass jugs of water; one with lemon, one with cucumber, and one with rose petals. Steve went for the cucumber and Bucky went for the lemon, muttering, “Why would anyone wanna drink rosy water? It’s like bathwater?”

Bucky was sat there a couple minutes before he kind of wished he’d taken his arm off, with all the people looking over. Maybe they were just looking at the Steve’s arms, the way they were bulging against his shirt, Captain America out in the flesh. Bucky sure was. “What you eatin’?”

“Thinking of the quinoa salad to be honest.”

“We’re on vacation. Get the meatless sausage or something.”

Steve’s face went a blank and he said, gentle as anything, “Think I normally like ‘em a little meaty, to be honest.” Then he let the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk.

“Gross.” Bucky might have been going nuts but, to him, it sounded like Steven Grant Rogers was dusting off his flirting skills.

“Hey look,” Steve said, and some of the patrons around them turned to look too, just because he had said it. Bucky got it; Steve was pretty, after all. Nice to gaze at. Steve turned the menu toward him and pointed, even though Buck had one of his own. “There’s a kosher section.”

 

 

After, they drove the car up to the parking site, and strolled the half hour up to the cabin. It still took their breath away when they saw it; the eclectic meadows, wildflowers and tall grass surrounding cobblestone pathways leading up to the tinted oak wood lodges. Bucky thought he could make one of them, him and Steve; recreate the wide windows and built in plant boxes. Steve was running his hands along the polished wood, looking at the lettuce and carrots growing there and inhaling the fresh air. “Wow.” He said, and that was all that could really be said.

It looked bigger on the inside, with the bed up against a central fireplace and the kitchen behind that. Bucky noticed there was a walk in shower. Steve would love that. “You bring your drawing kits?”

“Yeah. Sure is some nice stuff to look at here.” Steve’s eyes weren’t on the cabin though, they were on Bucky. Bucky had to take a little step back after that because Steven Grant Rogers really _was_ flirting with him very well, indeed.

He dumped his bag onto the floor at the door. “We should’a got this place longer than a night,”

“Got time.” Steve said. “We can come back.”

Bucky looked at that big, wide bed. Imagined him and Steve right in the middle, tangled up. Sweating. He thought about what they could do to each other tonight. Steve was probably imagining it too. He questioned if Steve had been with anyone, the past few years. He hadn’t thought to ask - it didn’t really matter.

They basked in the energy that twitched between them; enjoying the inevitable. Tonight they were going to have sex with each other. The hike was just foreplay, really, Bucky mused to himself. Maybe he could get Steve to make out with him somewhere in the forest.

He smiled and shouldered his hiking pack, then brushed all up against Steve on the way out the door, just to watch him writhe.

* * *

**NEW YORK, someplace in the Catskills Mountain Range**

   
They came out in a clearing coated in hip-high grass at some point in the mid-afternoon. There were rosy flowers all around Steve when Bucky turned and looked back at him, and the image made him falter and his breath stammer. He went over to him relaxed, deliberate. The grass parted under his boots, and he tried his hardest not to rearrange the natural patterns it grew in. Steve turned his face to feel the warmth of the sun on one side, and in doing so caught sight of Bucky stalking up to him. Steve, looking more certain than Bucky had seen for the past year, reached out and took his hand, pulling him close.

For the first time in eighty years he kissed Bucky; right there in the undergrowth, the pollen tickling their noses, the sound of a bird rustling the bushes a few metres ahead.

* * *

**NEW YORK, Sundown Wild Forest**

   
Steve grabbed him when they got in the door, slammed on the light, and got his hands gripped right onto Bucky’s ass - and Bucky was trying to shut them in with his boot, but Steve’s _hands_ his hands were just _everywhere -_ “C’mere,” He pushed and pulled Steve back so that he could slam the door, and then he smacked his mouth against Steve’s. They breathed all heavy against each other, lips open and wet; Steve could _kiss,_ he found out. Maybe he was just gagging for it.

He misjudges the strength of his metal arm and shoves Steve a bit too far back, makes too much space between them, he lets out a whine at his own movement that makes Steve laugh at him. He hands find purchase in Steve’s shirt and tug it any which-way it can go and Steve, seeming more in tuned to the situation, rips it off. bucky runs his real hand down over Steve’s abs, feels the definition; watches Steve twitch with his ticklish nerves. They were still so sweaty from the hike and it was driving Bucky _near infuriated_ with it _-_ Steve closed their lips together again, ridding them of any space between themselves. His hands were so tight in Bucky’s hair it made his whole body sag with a unfathomable satisfaction at being _seized_.

“I haven’t got anything,” Steve panted out, ripping Bucky’s shirt off him in turn. “I mean - I didn’t wanna be - I didn’t wanna assume-,”

“It’s fine,” Buck whispered back, pushing Steve back and back and back, still kissing him breathlessly, _hell,_ he could probably finish on this if Steve would just get starkers like he was _trying to get him._

They fell onto the bed in a heap, just how Bucky had imagined it, but he wanted it another way around. He wanted to be surrounded, he wanted to be encircled in Steve; to smell him, feel him, _taste him -_ his mouth watered, God, he wanted to do that. He wanted that weight in his mouth; he wanted Steve’s weight over him. “Get on me,” He demanded, trying to force Steve out of his trousers but having no godsend with the belt. Steve flipped them over and pulled his slacks down, trying to kick his boots off at the same time. Bucky took the break to force his own clothes off too, laying there in an eager spread.

Steve’s dog tags were bouncing against his chest when Steve came back down to him, and Bucky took them off slow, gentle, even though his hands shook so wild he thought his arm might disconnect. “You always wear mine, Stevie?”

Steve’s head fell and his teeth made marks on Bucky’s collar as Bucky tried to stretch to put the tags on the bedside drawer, reaching and, _God,_ the chain’s caught around his hand like they didn’t want him to let them go. Steve laved his tongue over a bite and whispered, “Always did like you a whole lot,” His breathing was coming out tough like it used to, when his lungs rattled when he was smaller; and Bucky could smell coffee again, the sensation of the skin of an apple stuck between his teeth. Sarah had made them coffee after she had shouted at them. Sarah had always known.

“Sap,” Bucky choked out. “Come on,” He put his hand on Steve’s bare back, knowing it must have been cold whether it was his metal one or not. Their breath was fogging up a bit the more they worked against each other, steaming up a haze between them. Bucky was dripping rivulets of sweat and Steve hadn’t even really gotten a good grip on him yet. Steve finally lowered himself down, ground his hips - _“Fuck,”_ Bucky grit out. He let his head fall back, felt a wetness on his hip and a warm, pulsing dick. He had it half in him to stay like this, rub off on each other like they would have if they had been given the _chance before -_ “Stay there,” he decided instead, and shuffled down the bed, Steve’s legs spread over his chest, caging him in.

He liked that Steve didn’t cater to anything here; Steve took what he sought, there was no making over of Bucky’s issues like, _finally,_ he wasn’t paranoid of the things Bucky might not be able to handle. Bucky sucked up Steve’s cockhead into his mouth with a slurp, enjoyed the feeling of Steve’s hips bucking into his face and making his body stutter and then, all too soon, after Buck had only moved a few inches down, he felt Steve’s body freeze and jitter, an orgasm side-lining him like a truck in traffic.

 _“Oh,”_ Steve let out in a breath, more like a plea, and he propped up on one hand to give Bucky room to back off if he needed (what a gentleman) but Bucky stayed put, and let his mouth fill and some of Steve’s cum dribbled over the seam of his mouth.

His eyes felt heavy when Steve dragged him up by his armpits, and he made a sound he would have been ashamed by in another circumstance; feeling that strength pull and bend him. Steve’s eyes were harsh, intense, challenging. He slotted their legs together creatively so that Bucky could rub his dick up against his abs, _the bastard,_ and had a muscle-deep grip on Buck’s thigh that only vexed him up more.

Bucky wanted to ask what Steve had in mind, he knew as well as Steve did that the serum could get them going again quick after; or maybe Steve didn’t know, not really. “What-,” He broke off on a moan, the hard body on top of his making him want to snap his hips, get frantic, but Steve’s lips covered his and took over, all authority and control. “What, _mph,_ what do you want to do to me?”

It made Steve pull back slightly, his mouth hanging open. A hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock, lightly at first, and then moving in tight, strict circles; touching with determination. “I want…” Steve started, but kissed him quick in the middle, and Bucky couldn’t - wouldn’t keep his hips still, grinding and shivering at the _energy_ he was getting out of this.

“Cum on me,” Steve begged, “Get it on me.”

It went right through Bucky, like a bolt of electric down his spine; he flinched like he had been struck, and then came across Steve’s leg, his stomach, his ribs; everywhere. In the fuzziness of his mind, he understood the complex position Stve had put them in so hastily.

They lay there for half a minute, catching their breath, Steve heavy but so _right_ on top of him. Steve managed, at some point, to roll onto his side. Bucky turned over with a look on his face that he knew was dumb, and saw that flush all over Steve’s chest. “You reckon you got another one in you tonight?”

Steve looked down at himself, eyelids tight and low. Bucky understood that expression in Steve’s eyes, all of a sudden. “Are you _embarrassed?”_

“No.” Steve replied promptly, and rolled onto his side with a huff.

“Yes you are,” Bucky negotiated his arm through where Steve had crossed his and lay it across Steve’s wide chest, spooning up behind him. “Baby, no need for that.”

Bucky didn’t miss how when he called Steve _baby_ it made his hips jerk. “Just… Was over a bit quick.”

“Me too,” He kissed the joint of Steve’s shoulder, just because he could. “We’ll practice.”

Bucky let his hands run over Steve slow, firm - eavesdropping on the world around them. The light was glaring above them, too bright in the settled light of the cabin, so Bucky got out of bed, stretching his hands way above his head and standing on his tiptoes. He got a satisfying pop from his shoulder. “Turn the fire on will you darlin’?”

The tops of Steve’s cheekbones went a little ruddy at that, but he did as he was told.

* * *

**NEW JERSEY, Coming off the I-95 SOUTH**

   
Luckily, Steve overpowered his disgrace and did have another go at it, very successfully too; rubbing up against Bucky in the walk in shower, pressing him into the tiled walls, the sound of birds through the open window. Steam enveloped them into a fever. He reached around Bucky’s lower back to hoist them closer together and the effort accidently made his hand come down harder than envisioned onto the swell of Bucky’s ass-cheek, but it made Bucky shiver and squeal,  and he came on Steve’s stomach without much caution.

When Steve was done, Bucky had the good sense to slap his ass back, and make him do the driving again.

They were less than an hour from Philadelphia by lunchtime, saving themselves for a good cheesesteak while Bucky used Steve’s phone to look for motels. “Do we want some place fancy again?” He was about to view a vintage place, one that had a boars head hanging over the bed, when the phone rang in his hand.

It was like a mirror breaking; that shrill, unending ringing. They had only just gotten this holiday started.

“I could let it go to message.” Bucky said, even though he knew Steve wouldn’t let him. The name on the screen said _Black Widow,_ corporate, professional. He felt a hollowness creeping up in his chest. Steve tapped his hands on the wheel in contemplation.

“Answer it, but we aren’t going for less than an apocalypse.” 

That was a good compromise, Bucky believed, as he answered. “Hello?”

“About time, what wonderful part of the world are you in to have not answered all twenty of my calls?”

Bucky had seen something flashing on the notifications when he turned the phone on a few minutes ago, but he had wanted to stay in the present as long as he could. “We’re just turning in to Philly in about forty-five. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing we need you back for. Also,” He could _hear_ her sneer, “You actually went Philly? Really?”

“What do you want?”

Steve looked at him worriedly from the corner of his eye. He put his hand over the bottom of the phone, as if it was an old receiver, “It’s Nat, don’t fuss. They don’t need us.”

Natasha cleared her throat. “There’s been something in the news this morning. I was going to leave it until you came back but, well, I don’t really know when you’re coming back.”

Bucky didn’t either, but he did not want to put a number on it. He turned the phone up a bit, so that Steve could overhear, and Steve turned the radio down simultaneously, curiosity getting the better of him.

“And the thing is,” Natasha relented, “I think it might be good for you to hide out for a while.”

“Are you asking us to elope?” Steve said, loud enough that Natasha could hear.

She made an awkward kind of sound, and Bucky didn’t like that at all. “Ha… ha.., about that…”

“What?” Bucky demanded.

“Someone sent a picture in of you guys to every major news site. You’re in some kind of clearing,” Bucky immediately understood what she was saying. The undergrowth when they came out of the trees, Steve’s confident look at him as he grasped his hand. The sound of the trees rustling. “I’m sure you know what’s going on in the photo.”

He could imagine it. Steve holding his waist, gentle and so intimate. Steve had gone deathly soundless beside him, eyes trained on the road.

“Do you want my recommendation?” Nat offered.

Bucky had half the mind to turn them both around and find the cretin who had followed them halfway up a mountain for a photo. “Can you take it down?”

“Probably, but the world knows now.” When Steve heard that, his shoulders locked up. “But if you guys wanna go off the grid, we would get it. Well, most of us.”

Bucky thought about it for a second, looking over at Steve. This was all still new. They had so much more to enjoy; they could spend a few weeks in Philly, months, even. Until some of it was more normal. Then they could go back and face the music on their own terms. “How long until you need us again?”

“I’d say you could have three months, probably less but - dye your hair or something, and you didn’t pack your suit, right? Did Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“Then Sam and Clint can co-parent Captain America and Lantern for a while. Lord knows no one ever really pays attention unless there’s a scandal.”

“Nat-,” He wanted to protest but, like a bullet, Steve’s hand came out and gripped his thigh. The car even jolted with Steve’s foot coming off the gas and slamming back down in panic. “What?” Bucky questioned.

Steve’s eyes were wild. “We could just have a break. That _is_ what we wanted, right? A vacation?”

“Leave me to it,” Natasha answered for him.

He thanked her, and then lounged himself back into his chair. Steve’s atmosphere had calmed; his shoulders had surrendered, and his jaw had gone loose. _It was about time he had a break_ , Bucky thought. Something still nagged at him a little. Steve took the next exit and drove them steady.

* * *

**CAPTAIN AMERICA CAUGHT ON HIS “GAYCATION” WITH JAMES BARNES: SEEN SMOOCHING IN CATSKILL MOUNTAIN RANGE.**

Captain America was seen yesterday in the idyllic Catskill Mountain Range taken in a romantic embrace with his best friend James Barnes, taking America by surprise. [image] [image]

[video] _“Mr Stark, did you guess that Captain America was gay?”_

_“The world you are looking for is bisexual, you know. Also, did you think I wouldn't notice that you’re that asshole that undermined my girlfriend? I’m going to have you so deep in scandal’s you’ll be-,”_

Did you guess that America’s lovable duo had been in cahoots all these years? Let us know in the comments below!

* * *

**PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia’s Best Sandwich Shop**

   
They were damn good sandwiches, Bucky could admit. He had laughed at the name but the woman at the counter had warned him not to judge a book by it’s cover, and he should have listened to her. He got some weird avocado nonsense, but _wow,_ “Goddamn.”

Steve hadn’t said much, but his eyes had glazed over at his first bite, too. Cheese had trailed from the bread right up to his mouth, and he worked his jaw to get it up to chew it. Bucky watched his tongue with interest, getting caught in the act as Steve grinned at him. “Like what you see, huh?”

Buck tried not to get bashful. “Maybe I’ve been converted by the meatless sausages, cause you sure look better than that cheese.” Steve went bright red in response. “We really gotta dye our hair?”

Steve reached up and ruffled his own. “I could grow a beard. I don’t mind being brunette for a bit.”

“I always did have a thing for brunettes.”

“Liar,” Steve accused him, and his smile looked a bit more genuine.

 

 

Bucky didn’t let the barber come near him in the end; he didn’t trust a stranger with a razor as much as he thought he would, but Steve didn’t push him. Something in the back of Bucky’s mind made him think that Steve maybe liked his hair like this. He remembered Steve’s hands deep against his skull, holding him still; pushing him so far against the tiles in that big cabin shower that he thought they would merge into one.

He brushed his hair slow with one of the salon brushes while he waited for the barber to finish up. It was a nice Turkish places, some that were popping up back home too, where they took their time and served you sweet tea and pastries. The barber had been chatting to Steve the whole time, occasionally gesturing with his hands even when he was holding a paintbrush of hair dye.

“We really went all in with this, didn’t we?” Steve said, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked completely different; dark, tall, mysterious. Bucky couldn’t stop his hands from wandering if he tried.

He thought about asking Steve to fuck him in the car, and a little shiver ran up his spine at the idea of it. They would be cramped, stuck so close together they might as well have been born that way. The problem with that was that Steve was still twitchy about all this; nervous, it was obvious in the way his arms flexed when Bucky slipped a finger under his shirt. The way his biceps solidify and the veins pop kind of got Bucky off, if he was honest.

“It’s our vacation, after all.”

“Seems like the rest of our lives.” Steve said with a little glimmer of hope, which made Bucky’s stomach drop. He cast a longing glance over to the backseat of the Cadillac. _Damn Steve and his arms._

* * *

**CAPTAIN AMERICA SEEN WORKING WITH THE AVENGERS ALONE: WHERE IS HIS MALE LOVER? IS IT OVER ALREADY?**

Captain America has been seen working alongside the Avengers ALONE this morning while they took down the reported “slime monster” that had grown from the condemned food factory in downtown New York City. The Captain was also seen sporting a new style of fighting with a crossbow. Perhaps the new couple has been experiencing trouble in paradise? Has the Captain been spending too much time with fellow Avenger Hawkeye?! Tell us what you think in the comments below! [image] [image]

* * *

**PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia**

   
Steve took him all around the main streets, dragging him into department stores when he got too overstimulated by the crowds and the noise. The department stores just made him feel _cheeky,_ taking handfuls of Steve’s ass, his hips, his shoulders when he could.

He felt like Steve was meant to be there, in and amongst all the expensive colognes, the Tom Ford, the Burberry; he looked like the models, a five o’clock shadow looming and his new hair. He was trying on a new coat, a grey double breasted button up, when he sighed and rolled his eyes, face holding in a smile. “What you getting at here Buck?”

“Nothing.” He replied automatically. “You just…” He looked Steve up and down, liked the way it made him squirm. “Look good.”

“It feels surreal.”

“What does?”

Steve looked revenant; reborn, a little twitch in the corner of his lips and a dark look in his eyes. “All this. We’ve eloped,”

Bucky wanted to make a joke about being pregnant, but Steve probably needed to stick it in him for that to happen. He laughed a little at himself. “Yeah, guess we have. Is that the look you’re going for? The disguise?” He came toward Steve and brushed off the front of the coat, even though it was clean. “Businessman of the twenty-first century?”

“I was gonna go for hobo, but you’ve already covered that.” Steve turned and observed himself in the mirror, looking a Bucky a little bit too. Bet he thought he wouldn’t notice that. “Feel like we might be a bit obvious in a cap and glasses, these day. Thinking if I walk out there looking like I know I look like… me, no one will think I _am_ me.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, really; the only problem was that together it might have been a bit more obvious.

Bucky turned and looked at the other racks around him, and along the furthest room was a feature wall, the wallpaper full of prints of the moon. Sometimes it was hard to believe they had put someone up there, in space. “And what would you recommend for me?”

Steve had a grin on his face like he had already been thinking about it.

“You know that vegan cafe?”

 

 

Bucky had to really, _really,_ gnash his teeth together in a smile when he saw Steve’s brunette head poke around the corner of the changing room curtain, just so that he wouldn’t bark out a laugh. “I look like a hippie. Except hippies don't wear-,” He paused, reaching behind himself for the label attached to the hemp hoodie. He tried not to grimace at the price. _“Gucci.”_

How long had Steve been waiting to get him into something so expensive? He could bet the idiot had been planning it, too. Plotting a way to get Bucky into something so luxurious he wouldn’t believe it, and wouldn’t say no.

“That’s the look I was aiming for.” Steve reached forward and rubbed at the threads. “Imagine this,” He reached forward and- oh, there were those hands in his hair again; Steve wasn’t as subtle as he wanted to be. He piled up Bucky’s hair on the top of his head, his fingernails raking up Bucky’s neck in the process, and wow _that was nice._ “Man bun, designer hemp clothes, reusable straws. The _true_ man of the future.” He let Bucky’s hair flop back around his face.

“Right.”

Steve lingered, eyelids weighted. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” He said. “I’m gonna go… look at shampoo. Didn’t pack enough for however long we’re here for.”

“Sure thing.” Bucky looked at the Gucci print harem pants with a sliver of trepidation. “I’ll be here.”

Steve gave him one last lingering stare, and then reached out to move a lock of hair from where he had messed it up in the first place. “Sap.” Bucky teased him, but didn’t smack his hand away.

* * *

**PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia Hilton Hotel**

   
Steve had hesitated when the receptionist asked how long they wanted the room for. It was such a visible flinch that Bucky almost felt like he should have interfered, and offered that they did something else, like one of those AirBNBs that Sam always went on about. He instead interjected with, “Let’s say a week for now,” and tugged at where his bun was pulled too tight.

Steve looked relieved and, quickly, slapped a credit card onto the miniature wooden dish. Bucky also didn’t miss how heavily he tipped, either.

The man in the elevator who pressed all the buttons was looking at them from the corner of his eye, and then not at all when Steve let his hand run over Bucky’s back, landing slowly on his ass.

It was a wonder what they looked like; a tycoon type, dark and handsome, and a spoilt hippie with a stiff stature and messy updo. Bucky must have looked small, carrying that big Gucci bag and a muddy duffel with his boots tied on. Young and dumb enough for a rich man to spend money on. It gave him a thrill he didn’t dwell on.

They shuffled up the hallway, hands not quite in each other's clothes, but not at all subtle about wanting to be; Bucky was whimpering, couldn't help it, when Steve gave him a kiss when the elevator left them on their floor.

There was a person at the end of the hallway, a shadow.

“Hello,” He called out to them, brandish and loud. “How do you do gentlemen?” In a bizarre fake English accent.

They paused, and Bucky thought it was weird for an unfamiliar person to call them out like that.

The stranger was wearing a robe that was gold quilted and patterned, looked expensive, and he observed them through old eyes over the rim of a monocle. “You two young fellows look like you are here for a while, I say.” He gestured to their bags, and then places his hand delicately into his pocket. Bucky saw the outline of a phone. This asshole was going to snap a photo of them.

“Just a week,” Steve answered politely.

“Oh, dear me, I must have you two fine young men mixed up with someone else."

When he said that, Bucky gave Steve a quizzing look. There were not many else that looked like they did; hell, two hours ago _they_ didn’t even look like they did. Bucky took Steve’s arm in a hard grip and Steve, understanding instantly, used the key card to unlock their door.

They waved the man off, as well as the mood.

“Well.” Bucky slipped off his Yeezys at the door. Neither he nor Steve didn’t know what a Yeezy was. “Clint would like these,” Bucky indicated with a nod to the shoes. “His colour.” Dark green, earthy, simple.

It sure was a nice room, worth the money, even. Bucky hadn’t thought much in the future was worth much as people charged, but this was gracious stuff; dark oak wood floors covered with thick rugs, a widespread window across the whole right hand wall that led toward a lounge; the bed right in the middle of the room with a brightly lit fish tank separating it from the rest of the suite.

“Clint’s got something better to wear,” Steve said, and unlocked his phone on an image of Clint in the spandex uniform. “He could have left his arrows at home, now _we’re_ in a gay scandal too.”

“So that guy out there...?”

“Let’s not. I’m trying to ignore him.”

Steve put the little bottles of shampoo on the table to the side of the bed. Bucky thought it was peculiar, to put them next to the bed. Then he realised what they really were. “Oh, Stevie, you spoil me.”

“I know.” Steve laughed him off, but Bucky could see the line of his shoulders tensing up.

They spent a few minutes in silence, organising the room, laying out bags and shoes. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should undress. He sat on the bed, in all his fancy clothes, with the only thing he has paid for on his body being his underwear and his socks.

Then he realised that Steve had gotten those too. _You like those socks I got you Buck?_

There was a small sign on the bedside table in frosted glass that said _Please! Don’t feed the fish, they get fed enough!_

Bucky read the sign three times before asking quietly, “Steve?”

Steve finished picking between two identical complementary robes and turned to run his eyes all over Buck like a stream of warm water. “Yeah?”

“You ever fuck anyone before?”

Steve’s facial expressions went through a journey, something complex, while Bucky was pretending he was still interested in the sign.

“No.”

“How come?”

He shrugged at that. “I… I wanted to. Guess it was a bit scary back then.”

Bucky didn’t really understand. “With Peggy?”

“Yeah. Do you remember-,” He hesitated, which made Bucky feel all kinds of annoyed, but in salvation Steve squared his posture and powered through. Bucky liked that better. “Lotsa’ girls in Brooklyn got knocked up, their fellas running off or… or dying, you know.”

Bucky couldn’t really remember it that deeply, but he could fill in the blanks of what it was like for those girls getting left behind, whether it was a consensual abandonment or not. He couldn’t begin to imagine how many of them got married to the next sod that came by just to cover it up, or what happened to those who didn’t. The documentaries he watched had said there was a baby boom after the war, and the orphanages filled right up.

“That the only reason?” He asked, because he knew it wasn’t.

“Guess I was still sore. About you.” He turned away from Bucky and took his coat off, and Bucky watched him peel back the layers over his torso; first his button down, then his undervest. He shimmied out of his tight dress trousers and put the robe on before he turned back, face to face. “Why you asking?”

“Cause I think I done it, once or twice.” He looked back at Steve, who had made slight progress toward the bed. “With fellas. I know I want it. Kind of like I miss it,” He reached a single hand out to Steve, the real one, “Guess you gotta know something to miss it.” He said it even though they both knew it wasn’t true. He would miss Steve even if they wiped his brain over and over. He always had.

Steve came towards him quick, let Bucky grip his hip through the thick fabric of the robe. “Thought you were gonna try something after the barbers.”

“Ran off and got yourself prepared instead of sneaking into that changing room with me?” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, pulling Steve down over him and nodding toward the new bottles. Steve fell onto him, kneeling one knee between where his were spread over the side of the bed, bracketing Bucky’s thigh tight. “Can you fuck me?”

“Sure can,” The reply was all challenge, because Steve didn’t take orders as well as he gave on anymore - Steve took provocation pretty well, though. Steve preened under it, like he did as a stupid kid. Like he did for a dare to go and steal an apple from Ms Weller’s apple tree.

“I’m clean,” Bucky said, because he felt like it was important, even if it went without saying.

“Me too. I have condoms, if you-,” Bucky shook his head quickly and cut Steve off. “OK, if you’re sure.”  

He tried to shuffle up the bed on his back as slow as he could but his nerves were shot and Steve’s hands - God, his hands were so big when they shoved his hoodie up over his head, and wasted no time starting on his drawstring pants, and already Bucky was squirming his way to the pillows and leaning back on them, spreading his legs like he was in heat, trying to get Steve to put his weight on him again - get heavy on him, hold him _down._

Steve jammed their bodies together again, in the centre of the spacious and squishy bed, egyptian cotton soft and mobile under their hands. His mouth caught on Bucky’s chin when he came back up from undressing them, and Bucky noted that Steve had left the socks he had bought him on. Possessive bastard.

Steve’s hand came up into his hair as the other one scrambled to get to the bottles, and Bucky appreciated the speed; he doesn’t have much patience left. His body ticks like an alarm, ready to ring. He hears it in the back of his mind like ticking, _please, please, please._ Steve’s fingers tightened and pulled Bucky’s head back, his hair band loosening, mouth dropping. Teeth found purchase in Bucky’s neck when his breathing got too heavy to kiss, and, _God,_ that was good. Even if the marks would be gone soon, that was damn _good._

Steve got his underwear down as Bucky took the robe off, their hands coming off each other for a bare second before gripping back on. This was what Bucky had thought it would be like; needy, desperate, like they didn’t have _at least_ a week to do this, if not the rest of their lives. Steve lifted a leg over to get between Bucky’s thighs, and wow, _that_ felt real. It was real. Bucky was shaking apart in his hands. 

The bottle was a flip cap, thank fuck, and not a twist off. Bucky remembered the beer for a second, and then the cider, and then it went again when Steve took Bucky’s dick into his hand and gave him a leisurely stoke, root to tip. “You want me to take the edge off? You’re- you’re so _wet,”_ Steve marvelled as he spread the fluid _streaming_ out of Bucky around and Bucky hadn’t even really noticed -

“No, please, come on,” He couldn’t stop his hips from twitching anyway, but Steve, _Steve,_ his best guy - he let go and scrambled, but before Bucky could complain, Steve squirted the cold gel right onto his hole and Bucky heard the bottle drop onto the mattress under him and Steve’s huge index finger pushed in a bit too hard and a bit too fast but it was perfect - _“Shit me,”_ Bucky swore and, suddenly, came all over himself, trying so hard not to yell that it came out as a long, disjointed keen instead.

Steve’s eyebrows screwed up and Bucky knew that look, not like this but he knew it from anywhere, “Don’t you dare stop, you bastard, don’t you dare,” Because Steve’s finger was still in him, a solid and hard weight that Bucky had wanted all day, so he linked his ankled behind Steve’s back. The movement made Steve jolt forward and fucked his finger in harder, and it made Bucky come out with the _noise_ like a howl but he guessed that was just how this was going to be tonight, he was still too hot and desperate for it. “Come on baby, come on,” he urged.

Steve moved his finger tentatively and Bucky, mad with it, started imagining it; Steve inside him, maybe in his mouth first and - his mouth watered and his dick twitched, yes - in his mouth first, getting nice and wet, and then inside him, drilling him deep and slow, every single push making him wail. “Yes,” He kept saying, unable to help himself, “Go on, one more, go on,”

The stretch kept changing, Steve was adding more fingers, then going back to two and rubbing them in all the good places, so Bucky’s toes kept curling and uncurling; his calves cramped and the convulsions of it all made him such a mess for Steve that at one point he had to close his eyes just to stop the stimulation; Steve only pulled his hair and, _fuck,_ Steve was really liking this, he was moaning too, even though he wasn’t being touched. “Can I?” He begged Bucky, sounding just as wrecked, and Bucky could barely even nod with the grip that Steve had on his hair, his mouth was still open and spit was running down his chin, and there was a twitching in his spine - he hadn’t even realised he was holding onto Steve’s wrist and pulling the fingers out for him.

He put one arm over Steve’s shoulder and the other under, getting his hands into any piece of muscle he could. His neck hurt from the biting, his hips hurt from being split apart by Steve’s wide thighs but, fuck, did he like it.

He felt the head of Steve’s cock breaching him, and damn - _damn,_ Steve’s wet hand came down to touch where it was going in, his thumb went into Bucky’s hole and felt the soft swollen skin where it was ready for his cock, and then he moved his thumb back out and pushed in a little again and Steve _looked down_ at where they were joining to watch it happen and Bucky was damned if he was going to cum again from so little but he threw his head to the side against Steve’s grip on his hair and bit down with all the strength in his jaw onto Steve’s wrist which turned out not to be much, _“Stevie,”_ He gasped, like a prayer, and his teeth hadn’t even broken the _skin,_

“It’s-,” Steve moaned out, “We’re-,”

“Hurry,” He tried to move against Steve but the idiot wasn’t far enough in for the movement to do much to Steve, but at least it got him going and he pushed in and pulled back and Bucky bore down and he just slipped in like he was “- Meant to be here,” Bucky rambled, unable to stop himself, and now his face was heating and his stomach was tingling and he was - “Gonna cum again, please Steve, oh God, you're the dream, that's it,”

Steve let go of him and he fell back onto the pillows, which made him look back up at Steve with wild eyes but he wished he hadn’t because Steve’s hair was all in his face and he looked _broken_ and dangerous, and Buck couldn’t even keep his legs locked, they just flailed and hung around Steve’s thrusting hips and Steve _gave it to him,_ harder than Bucky thought he would dare - and that was euphoria, good enough to _scream_.

Steve went to slow down when Bucky came the second time, probably from the noise that came out of Bucky’s body like he was being exorcised, but Bucky wouldn’t have Steve regaining any kind of composure, and surged up to kiss him. His stomach shook like he had been working out, hardly enough strength to hold him up even with his hands holding Steve’s face to keep their mouths locked together, but he felt Steve hips getting faster, oh, that was good, that was great, Steve made all these deep and thankful sounds right into Bucky’s mouth, and they travelled into his soul.

“That’s it,” Bucky said, when he felt Steve losing his rhythm and _God_ he wanted Steve to cum in him so bad it hurt, he wanted the searing heat and he _bet_ Steve would look so good when he finished -

Steve’s hands flew from their support on his forearms beside Bucky’s head to anywhere they could; one came down hard under Bucky’s shoulders, the nails digging deep and strong into the flesh, and another went right back into his hair and _that was totally a thing,_ and Steve let out a whimper. Steve held him so tight as he started to cum that Bucky was happy to suffocate in it.

 

 

There was a speck of blood on the white cotton after, and a little mixed in the lube and Steve's semen on the inside of Bucky’s thighs - he thought maybe Steve had slipped in a little too wetly for it to just be that first little squeeze of lube. Steve hadn't done this before, so Bucky understood that he probably didn’t get it. It didn't stop him from near losing his mind over it, fretting and checking and rubbing at his face. “It’s fine,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hands away from his face and pulling him down. He moved the wet towels out from where Steve was cleaning him up and dumped them right onto the floor. Steve grimaced at the _slap_. “Stop fretting.”

There was a master switch beside the bed, and when Bucky flicked it all of the lights came off but the fishtank lit up cyan and twinkling; there was mainly those yellow flat fish that looked kinda fake, but Bucky reached a hand up and tapped the glass and the fish flinched away. “Wow.” Steve whispered, and snuggled up into Bucky’s armpit, even though it made his legs slip out of the end of the covers.

“The fish or the sex?”

“Both, really.” He kissed Bucky’s underarm and wrapped his arms tight around his torso, watching the fish make circles in their tank. Steve’s brown hair took on a green tint in the blue light, and Bucky’s metal arm glowed matte navy as it ran through the short hairs at the back of Steve’s neck. “You tired?” Steve asked him.

“Not really. You can sleep though. I might later,”

“OK.” Steve said, and drifted off right there, like all he needed was permission.

Bucky lay there for an hour or so, watching the tank’s reflection on the ceiling. He was sure if this felt permanent yet. They were in this for a week, unless they were needed; so far it seemed like they weren’t going to be if Natasha had anything to do with it. He didn’t miss anyone too unbearably, if he was frank.

Maybe he and Steve could do this forever. Maybe they would go back to the tower at the end of the week. He didn’t really care anymore, and as his eyes closed slow, he thought about all the places he might fancy going while they could.

How had this happened, he doubted in his mind; what universe was it that he was blessed to wake up a century late and have everything he wanted?

* * *

**PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia Hilton Hotel**

   
He knew he was dreaming, looking over at Steve, five-foot nothing and a sack of bones, sleeping in a ball under an old knitted blanket. It must have been a memory, but it was hard to tell. He stubbed his toe on the metal of Steve’s bed, and it woke Steve up in an instant; the cold had gotten right to him, and his lips were blue. “Buck, are you drunk? What a-a-are,” He started to shiver quick and, in classic Steven Grant Rogers Style, had a strop about it and rolled over with an prudish little grunt, pretending to ignore Bucky. “I’m n-n-not in the mood for this.”

Bucky got into bed with him a bit wobbly, still fully dressed in his nice going out suit, and wrapped himself around Steve like a cat. Steve pretended to struggle, but Bucky knew he was going to stop, and when he did he snuggled back and let Bucky’s heat consume him, and Bucky pulled the blanket up over the both of them. He could hear his sisters complaining about him in the room over, that he had woken them all up again on his way through the door. He inhaled the smell of Steve in through his nose instead of listening, and got a whiff of Steve’s soap, too. Smelled much better than the queer bar had.

On a reflex, like it was nothing, Bucky kissed the top of Steve’s head before he knocked himself out and started snoring. He wasn’t awake to see Steve freeze solid, and not from the winter chill.

* * *

**PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia Hilton Hotel**

   
He woke up on his front, which made him feel uneasy at first, that he had not noticed the change in position - maybe his body had gotten so attuned to Steve’s presence that it was growing lax with its defence, but then his foggy mind started waking up and he felt Steve’s hands turning him and realised he had woken on the movement. Steve pushed his thighs up and Bucky felt a wetness, right on his hole, and stuttered awake in an instant. “Stevie-,” He gasped, just as Steve’s tongue made long, wide stripes all over him. “Oh Stevie, oh God, that’s it, that’s it, _fuck,”_

Steve took apart leisurely, slow, let him get hot and beg and then fingered him into a complete mess. He got Steve in his mouth after, like he had wanted to last night, and returned the favour.

After, Steve rolled onto his back and said, as if commenting on the weather, “We got a lot of things we can do to each other, actually. Now that I think about it.” He rolled to the side, looking innocent and driving Bucky into a rut. “You can do me later, if you like.”

Bucky tried to stop himself going bright tomato red, but it didn’t work.

Sam called them when they went to breakfast, the morning person he was, and ranted at them about his sticky hip and bad knee and all kinds of things that being Captain America was giving him, and Steve laughed and rolled his eyes and Bucky reached over the breakfast table and stole one of his strips of melon because he wasn’t paying attention.

“When are we back?” Steve repeated loud, so that Bucky could hear. He looked at Bucky all wide-eyed and unsure. “Uh…”

Bucky shrugged.

“Whenever, really. We haven’t really got a plan. You heard - oh, that’s… yeah,” The tips of his ears went red. “Yeah we are. Since when?” He looked back at Bucky, who had been intending to steal Steve’s coffee too. A nice waitress came over and gave him his own quickly while Steve’s smile faltered and did something weird. “Probably since nineteen thirty-three, to be honest.”

The waitress gave them an odd look, and Bucky barked out a laugh. “Finish your breakfast, idiot. I wanna go to the art museum and watch you get all emotional over the _Monet_ section.”

He put his hand over the phone, just as Bucky did all the time too. “He said all the news channels are trying to guess if we’re in love,”

“Sure we are. Tell ‘em, we might as well. Gotta face the crowd someday.”

Steve kicked him in the shin under the table, gave him a naughty little wink that had no business being at breakfast with them, and told Sam to deal with it for them. “So,” he said after he hung up. “Go and get me more melon, since you stole mine. Then we can go look at the art.”

“I’m already looking at it,” Bucky smirked, “Hey, did our neighbour put anything online about us?”

“Let’s check,” Steve tapped slow at his phone and gave the waitress a flirty smile when she brought the melon over for them rather than making them get up, Bucky watched her knees nearly buckle under the onslaught of Steve’s perfect face (that he had been sat on only an hour ago), and then Steve started shaking with a pent up laughter he was trying to contain. “Look at this,” he handed Bucky the phone.

It wasn’t a photo of them, thank God, because he wasn’t about to re-dye Steve’s hair or cut his own. Instead it was a photo of them before the war when Steve was still small, his shirt hanging off him at his shoulders; Bucky had an arm slung around his waist, a touch too intimately. “I haven’t seen this photo in… _centuries.”_

“We’re a national sensation Rogers,” Bucky marvelled. “You better buy me some more of those pants, ‘cause we’re gonna’ be hiding for a while.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand on the table and ran his finger over Bucky’s cuticles. “What a nice guy, he didn’t even say where we were. We should buy him a cider.”

“Hm.” Was all Bucky had to say to that, and took another bit of Steve’s melon, somehow sweeter just because it was stolen, just because he could.  

* * *

**CAPTAIN AMERICA AND JAMES BARNES IN THE HONEYMOON SUITE:**

An inside source has spotted Captain America and James Barnes in an unknown Hamptons Hotel on the East Coast in the HONEYMOON SUITE, has America’s record breaking love story gone to the next level? Will there be a national holiday to commemorate this couple’s unity? Why weren’t the Avengers present at the wedding? Let us know in the comments below! [image]

 

~ fin

 

**Author's Note:**

> this has only been proof read by me so pls tell me if i did some bad spelling cause im a mong that cant spell, thank u to caitlin for helping me remember the word quaint which i was trying to find for about an hour lol x
> 
> come see me on Tumblr @nakedstucky ok byeeeee


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